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Georgia Barwick

On July 4, 1982, another woman and I were both about 2 weeks away from the due dates of our first born.  We could not pass through the same door simultaneously at a gathering because our bellies wouldn’t allow it.  This began our friendship. Our children, born five day apart, played together often.  Owen was quiet and observant one moment and full of active curiosity the next.  Over the years, he was always engaging, asking questions about the world and the nature of the people within it.  I learned how much he loved nature and being outdoors. He especially loved the water and deep-sea fishing. He was usually equipped with a camera, one of the many reasons he received all the boating and fishing gear that had been accumulated by my husband who had shared a similar passion. Owen’s photography showed his love of nature and animals and reflected the beauty he saw in the world. Unlike most of us who fail to recognize the beauty of the everyday, he did. Life is complicated, yet somehow his vision saw through that. He had a big heart and the ability to love and be loved which never ends. Instead it will echo, always in our memories, thoughts and hearts.  I will always picture him fishing and smiling, camera in hand or nearby, feeling free. 

Rebecca Ruegger

The Ruegger family has many fond memories  of gatherings with the Osbornes in Hamden, at Princeton/Dartmouth games, Dartmouth reunions, and a special family rendezvous at Windy Hill Farm.

Owen was always the leader of the kids’ pack…..funny, energetic and engaging with every child and adult.

We saw him last at Bob’s father’s funeral, where he gave a wonderful eulogy.

We never knew what a talented photographer Owen was. His eye for beauty in the natural world was extraordinary. A true artist…..sensitive and caring……a beautiful spirit.

We all send our love to each of you, Oz, Inge, Devin and Carly

Becky and Pete, Sarah, Britt and Mike

Ben Fussiner

I have many memories of Owen. In almost all of my memories Owen is a child. This doesn’t surprise me. Even when I saw Owen when he was an adult he retained his childlike wonder. I think of one story in particular often. I babysat for Owen and Devon a number of times (and even once or twice for Carly too, once she joined the party). One night, at bedtime, I was reading a picture book to Owen. He must have been 5 or 6. 3 or 4 year-old Devon was more interested in testing his ability to jump from bed to bed. At a certain point in the story Owen put his hand across the page to stop me. He looked deeply into my eyes and asked, “Ben, are you a grown up?” I responded, “I don’t know, do you think I’m a grown up?” Owen thought about it for a few seconds and said, “Yes. You are a grown up, because you have a beard.” I replied, “If the beard is what makes me a grown up, how do girls know when they are grown ups?” Owen then contemplated even more deeply, looked at me again with a mix of curiosity and genuine concern, and declared, “I have no idea!”

Christian Scialla

To My Best Friend Owen,

In the year 1999 you and I became friends. In time we became best friends. The times we had together will never be forgotten over the last 2 decades. In the beginning, we spent so much time together. Of course as we grew up, we all had dreams to pursue.  As we know as life goes on, life will throw you to your knees , it is about how you get back up and try again. Never giving up was your motto. Although the roads we take will define us, you continued to explore every avenue. There is a point in life that we reach when we take the road less traveled. This was not an option, it was in your DNA to explore. That is why your time with us filled our most sought adventures and we lived vicariously through you.  My children will always know what you meant to me through stories I will portray of a man who walked in my life and gave me nothing but happiness through years of friendship. I was so lucky to have you in my life.  Thank you Owen. For being my friend, confidant and brother I never had.  Rest In Peace my good man.

To Bob, Inge, Devin and Carly, the Scialla family prayers are with you all. 
Christian

Duff McDonald

Owen was a good, sweet, kind, gentle, and loving soul.

I met Owen when I was at my very bottom, during a 30-day stint at in-patient rehab for alcoholism. A few of us who weren’t considered a danger to ourselves were given permission to attend an off-campus Alcoholics Anonymous meeting a few times a week. I’ve never looked forward to an AA meeting as much as I did that one; it’s a little suffocating to be confined to in-patient rehab. The only issue was that the hospital wouldn’t actually drive us to the meeting. We needed local volunteers to do that. Who would volunteer to drive an addict they’ve never even met to an AA meeting half an hour away, and then back again? Who has that kind of faith in the essential goodness of their fellow man, as well as the time and inclination to dedicate several hours of their day to such a thankless task?

Owen Osborne did.

From the moment I slipped into Owen’s passenger seat on a cold January morning in Connecticut in 2010, it was clear to me that we would be friends. But I had no idea what kind of friend Owen would prove to be.

He was kind to me and asked nothing in return. He showed me how to do that. I later did it for him, but he taught me how to do it for anyone.

He gave me the gift of his photography, taking the most beautiful pictures of my daughter that anyone has ever taken. He was such a master with a camera that we invited him to spend Christmas with my ex-wife’s family one year to document the holiday and the love. The photos he took were stunning.

Last summer, finally ready for a move back to the East Coast, Owen came to live with my wife Joey and me in Hurley, New York. He filmed our wedding, leaving us a with beautiful tribute to that wonderful day. He helped in the construction of our geodesic dome. He chipped into the daily cooking, in charge of lunch. He took up a yoga practice, without complaint, even when my tough love approach to yoga gave him a bit of a groin injury. We loved his company so much that we asked him to move onto our property permanently. We didn’t want him to leave, ever.

Most importantly, though, he bought a boat to launch in the Ashokan Reservoir and showed me and my daughter Marguerite how to fish like a pro. I have never caught so many fish in my life. Better yet, he clearly transmitted the thrill he felt while fishing to my child, who saw him for what he really was—a true master capable of teaching a child a complex skill because he really understood it. That’s the greatest gift he gave me, too—transmitting some of the joy he experienced while fishing to my child.

I will always cherish the time we spent on the Ashokan, often just the two of us in the boat, paddling around in the late afternoon sun, just shooting the breeze. Owen was great at that, too. In the final analysis, I just liked being around Owen, no matter what we were doing. He was a true friend. 

I will miss you, Owen. Thank you for coming into my life.

Xo

Duff McDonald

Bob Osborne

Meg Glendon

Dear Bob, Inge, Devin and Carly,

Please accept my heartfelt sympathy on Owen’s passing. I tried several times to find the words to share memories of Owen, but my thoughts and feelings came by way of quiet reflection rather than by the written or spoken word.

That is why I am in awe of this tribute to Owen. You managed to capture his spirit and essence in words and in his photos, which are wonderful beyond words.

Perhaps one thing I can express is how touching it was to see Owen’s photograph. It captured the way he had of looking deeply into another person’s eyes and making a meaningful connection. He had that gift from the time he was a toddler and kept it throughout his life. I am grateful that you invited me to dinner when Owen visited last year to once again make that connection with him. It is a moment in time that I will treasure.

With love,
Meg

Christine Cartwright

As my heart aches for one more conversation, to hear your laugh just once more, I hold on to the blessings we shared. This day was of indescribable happiness. This day lives with me forever.

I’m thankful for her eyes. I’m thankful for her mind. I’m thankful for her sense of adventure. I’m thankful for her fearlessness. I’m thankful you gave me this gift.

You live on through her.

Walter Gaffney

Owen with his Favorite Mentor and Friend Walter Gaffney

We really miss these two wonderful souls.

Bob Osborne – Some New Found Photos

Bonnie James

Owen arrived with perfect timing for his stage debut as Baby Jesus at Church of the Redeemer. Shy of six months, his charm was evident; gorgeous blue eyes and a cherubic patina he never lost. He played Jesus opposite cousins, at a sanctuary
that valued the presence of Osbornes from Baby Jesus days through Bob’s role at Forum.

We watched Owen progress from his rock-solid St. Thomas’s days through middle school challenges and ultimately to his graduation from The Sound School, apropos to Owen’s life long love of all things open water and creatures under the surface. As a young adult, Owen showed up in McGregor, Iowa where his fishing skills and love of the sport, matched the challenge of fly fishing for trout in the NE Iowa streams. Again with cousins who shared his fondness for fishes, on his visits he brought joy to each of us. There was one particular incident that struck me as vintage Owen. At that time in his life he had nurtured superior photography skills. When he showed me a collection of photos from an afternoon’s fishing outing again with cousins, I asked him what made a photograph special. To me, each looked too similar to differentiate an excellent photo from an ordinary. Side by side photos, schooling me in his art, he
told me that what he was looking for was “attitude.” And indeed, when I understood what he meant, his description was spot on. He had captured his younger cousin with a subtle characterization that was stunningly revealing. And in many ways, Owen’s pursuit of “attitude” or what we might also describe as disposition, temperament or persona, he sought definition in what he did.

Owen leaves a legacy of marvelous photography, among many collections of his interests, and stories of his adventures we will long remember.